


a softer world

by falqons (golden_gardenias)



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Gen, references to police brutality
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-14
Updated: 2018-02-14
Packaged: 2019-03-18 17:00:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,182
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13685919
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/golden_gardenias/pseuds/falqons
Summary: Nursey's mom reminds him of a lesson she'd rather he didn't have to learn.





	a softer world

**Author's Note:**

> this was the only one of my nursey week ideas that i managed to finish, so here it is! this is a really sensitive topic, and my original idea for the prompt was to follow nursey as he found out what happened to mike brown and thinking about how easily something like that could happen to him. naturally this reminded me of when i found out, which was Bad. maybe if i'm feeling especially masochistic one day, i'll revisit that, but until then, there's this instead.

Erika Nurse is standing outside her youngest son’s bedroom door, fist poised to knock, when she hears him laugh. The sound is just as open and free as it was when it first bubbled out of him as a baby, and it warms her heart. That sweet baby grew into a man in a blink, and now she’s preparing to see him off to college.

Jasmine and Ivan had gone before him, and Gabriela will go after; she’s familiar with this feeling, but it still rests heavily in her chest. His voice makes its way through the door, cutting off her brief musings. He’s singing, “His Royal Highness, Christopher Rupert--”

Her own laugh startles out of her. He’s watching _Rodgers and Hammerstein’s Cinderella_ , a masterpiece of a movie she’d first shown him as a toddler that he has yet to let go of. Their old VHS tape had been worn down beyond repair years ago from his constant rewatching, but it still has a place in his room--right beside the DVD copy they’d gotten to replace it for one of his birthdays. She pushes the door open a crack, and sure enough, there he is, clutching his stuffed dog to his chest and bouncing happily to the beat.

The door creaks, giving her away. He turns to look at her, still smiling.

“Hey Mommy,” he says casually, pausing the movie.

She pushes it open all the way and comes in. “Hey, baby. Sorry to interrupt.”

“No worries, you’re fine. What’s up?” he asks, making room on his bed for her.

She takes up more space than he allotted her, deliberately leaning into him. It has the desired effect; he chuckles and pushes at her, pretending to be annoyed, but ends up wrapping his arm around her in a side hug. She returns it, resting her cheek on his shoulder. _He’s not as small as he used to be,_ she thinks mournfully.

“You wanna watch?” he offers, gesturing to the TV with the remote.

“That’s okay. I wanted to talk to you, actually.” She pulls back from their hug so she can look at his face. “You’re gonna be leaving me soon.”

He shrugs. “I won’t be that far. And it’s not like you won’t still see me all the time,” he assures her.

She nods. “I know. I just worry, that’s all.”

“‘Bout what?”

This is what she’d come here for, and she’d been gearing herself up all night for it, but his open expression, the ease with which he asks--he’s still so young. Too young. He doesn’t need to know that the world is cruel. But maybe it’s naive to think that he doesn’t already, wishful thinking on her part. She looks at him and sees the little boy who’d followed Jasmine and Ivy everywhere, who put poems in her Mother’s Day cards next to careful drawings of the six of them playing in the park. Other people will look at him and see a threat.

“I know how you like to have fun,” she starts, changing tactics, “but I want you to be careful. Dad and I will still come get you if you need us, but keep in mind that it’s a longer drive now.”

“Mom, oh my god,” he laughs. “I don’t know where you got the idea that I’m some kinda party animal from. I like to keep a low profile, come on.”

She raises a disapproving eyebrow at him. “Uh-huh. Just don’t be actin’ a fool up there, okay? Stick with that loud friend of yours, the one with the name.”

“Shi--uh, Milky? I hate to break it to you, but he’s not exactly a paragon of virtue.”

“He will be if he ever wants to come back here again,” she warns. She’d had her doubts about him when he’d first come over to work on a group project with Ivan--and even more when he seemed to latch onto Ivan’s little brother instead of his own classmate--but he’s been a constant presence in their house, nothing but respectful and polite. Except for his shouting. And his cussing when he thinks she can’t hear him. “And I’ve told him to take care of you, too, so he knows what’s at stake.”

He rolls his eyes, and she finds herself aching for the days when he could afford to be carefree. When hardly the only words he spoke were lines from his favorite movie.

“I’ll be _fine_ , seriously. Were you like this for Jas and Blue?”

“I worry about all of you, mijo,” she says, reaching out to turn some of his curls between her fingertips. “You just happen to be the only one starting a brand new chapter of their life in a few days.”

They lapse into a comfortable silence, and she wills herself to breach the intended topic of conversation.  

“Baby,” she starts slowly, "you know, with everything that’s been happening lately . . . you know you need to be careful, right?”

She hates that his eyes tighten, catching her meaning immediately. “Yeah, I know,” he answers softly.

“And you remember what I taught you before?”

“Yeah, I remember.” His brightness has dulled, and she hates the world for forcing her to do this. “If I’m at a party and the cops show up, stay with a group. If I get stopped and frisked, don’t make too much eye contact, but don’t keep my head down. Keep my hands outta my pockets and stay relaxed.”

It kills her that Mike Brown’s mother probably had this same conversation with her son. She hates that there are millions of other black parents giving their black children the same advice. But most of all, she’s terrified that this might not be enough to keep him safe.

“You keep your phone in your hand, okay?” she urges. “You can open your camera right from the lock screen, right? Don’t forget to hit record.”

“I won’t,” he promises solemnly.

She takes a shaky breath, dropping her hand through the hair at his temple and cradling his face. She hates that she’s brought her children--four _beautiful_ , thoughtful, intelligent, kind-hearted, _amazing_ children--into a world that tears them down, devalues them. “You know I love you, right, sweetheart?”

His expression is confused now. “Of course.”

“And call me if you need me,” she reminds him. “I don’t care what time it is or what you think I’m doing, _call me_.”

This had been a hard lesson to teach him; nothing he needs will ever inconvenience her, she will always want to talk to him, he’s always tied for number one on her list of priorities. For now he seems to believe her, taking her hand from her lap and resting their palms together. “I will.”

The smile she gives him is watery, but he returns it with his usual dimpled one. She’ll destroy the world for that smile, build up a better one that deserves Jasmine’s quick wit and Ivan’s wild dancing and Derek’s dimples and Gabi’s sure voice. And God help anyone that tries to stop her.


End file.
